From Rescued to Spreading Unconditional Love

Full disclosure: I never intended to train a therapy dog, much less a therapy CAT too! But life unfolds in the most mysterious of ways and in retrospect, all the dots are connected in a beautiful mosaic, cemented in relationships and love.

My beloved husband Gene was a lifelong animal lover from the time he was young. He was a boy who brought home baby possums, skunks, and raccoons and who rescued stray dogs off the side of the road in East Texas where he grew up. People called him an animal whisperer long before that was a popular phrase. But in July of 2015, he was in the battle of his life, fighting to stay present in the face of dementia. I had retired from my position as founder and executive director of a special education school and institute to take care of Gene. Frankly, I had my hands full.

We had four cats, but our last dog had died several years earlier. Nonetheless, our annual ritual of attending the AKC dog show in Houston had not changed. When we bought our tickets, I teasingly said to him, “Now do not ask for a dog! We are not here to get a dog!” He laughed because it was indeed preposterous. People don’t adopt dogs at the AKC show. 

We held hands as we entered the vast hall. We had loved this show for years, especially when our daughter Jennifer participated in agility with her Sheltie named Bailey. But we loved everything about it: the vendors, the huge variety of dogs, watching conformation and breed competitions, herding and canine musical freestyle, and cheering on the flyball teams.

We also liked to visit the booths of rescue organizations, especially the two for which our daughter Jennifer had fostered. When we came to the Houston Sheltie Sanctuary booth, I unexpectedly was staring into the eyes of the most adorable young dog I had ever seen. His name was Jax, and it was love at first sight for me. For him? Truly, he loved anyone who paid attention to him!

We moved on, stopping to visit many booths, but I kept circling back to that HSS booth and Jax. Our daughter giggled and said, “you’re crazy about him, aren’t you?”. I was indeed. More than that though, I thought that a dog like Jax (well, not any dog….just Jax) might be just the ticket for Gene, a faithful four-legged companion as his memory continued to decline. 

The Beginning of More Than Coincidence

We chatted with the woman at the booth, Vickey Willard, Jax’s foster mom, who was delighted to reconnect with Jennifer. She had not brought Jax to the show to find an adopter; she had brought him as another socialization experience. After we revealed that I was smitten with Jax, Vickey allowed us to take him for a walk. I handed the leash to Gene, and not surprisingly his decades of experience as a dog handler came right back. They looked like they’d been walking together forever.

Although it was far from standard HSS protocol, because our daughter could vouch for us as adopters, we were allowed to complete preliminary adoption papers for Jax and take him home. We knew little of Jax’s background. I only knew that my heart had connected with his in a powerful way. I soon learned his history: turned in by his owner in horrible condition at two years of age to be euthanized. He was malnourished, full of mange and open sores, and was “wild”. The shelter vet had notified HSS because he thought Jax might be a Sheltie. Much later we would learn from his DNA test that he wasn’t a Sheltie at all, but a wonderful, unique blend of herding, companion, and guarding breeds, or 100% “good boy”! HSS pulled him; Jax went to two different foster homes, one for five months to get medically well, and then to Vickey’s house for three months for socialization. When we met, he was almost three years old.  

What I Thought was Not It

As it turned out, it was a little too late in the unrelenting dementia process for Gene to form new relationships. He enjoyed Jax, but he rarely sought him out. However, a tight bond quickly formed between Jax and me; he became my life saver in the next few difficult years. Jax was easy going, loved to learn, and got along beautifully with our cats. He was gentle, intuitive, and playful. A year later, Gene began attending Amazing Place, a day center for persons with mild to moderate memory loss. With this newly acquired free time, I got serious about training Jax, he passed the CGC with flying colors and was certified as a therapy dog through Houston’s very well-respected Faithful Paws Pet Therapy. We visited children’s developmental centers, Shriner’s Hospital, and then joined a team which visited weekly at Houston Methodist Hospital.

Meantime, Gene’s dementia progressed too. He lived the last two years of his life at a memory care community where Jax and I visited him almost daily. Jax especially enjoyed napping with him. He was snuggling with him the night before Gene died on April 23, 2018. We both missed him terribly, and there was a huge void in our lives and our schedule. It helped to join the pet therapy teams at Amazing Place and also at Sheltering Arms, where Gene attended for six months before entering residential care. These were communities which had offered peace and love to both Gene and me, and it was a joy to stay connected with staff members and participants. Today I lead the teams that visit Amazing Place and MD Anderson Cancer Center. We also visit weekly at Methodist Hospital, and monthly at the Women’s Hospital of Texas and other one-time visits, especially to schools, colleges, and universities for stress relief at exam time. 

Full Circle

Vickey Willard, Jax’s foster mom, as it turned out, was one of the early members of Faithful Paws and is our CGC evaluator.

But that JAX!

Jax has earned all five of the AKC trick dog titles and loves performing wherever we visit. I have become the training coordinator and assistant administrator for Faithful Paws. It’s 100% volunteer work, close to 40 hours a week! I love helping other people and their pets learn to do this inspiring work.

One Powerful Story

I love to share what happened during Covid when pet therapy, like everything else in the world, shut down. When we returned to our regular visit to the locked psychiatric unit at Methodist Hospital, a nurse pulled me aside. She told me that while we were gone there had a been a severely depressed woman who had stood in front of the bulletin board near the patient community room day after day, staring at Jax’s “business card” posted there. It contains two side-by-side pictures of Jax: his “before” when he was so beaten down and abused and his “after” picture sporting a dapper pink plaid tie, sitting in a bed of bluebonnet flowers. Finally, one day the patient called her psychiatrist over, pointed to Jax’s picture and pronounced, “If Jax can do it, I can do it!”  What a testament to the power of pet therapy. Jax didn’t even have to BE there to make a profound difference in her life!

And then there was Gizmo

Also during Covid, when we were stuck at home, Jax and I volunteered to foster kittens for our city animal shelter—ten different litters of them over two years. It was a ton of work, but so inspiring watching Jax be the gentlest big brother to all those little bundles of kitty energy. We did, however foster fail with one precious, long-haired tabby kitten. He’d been found all alone in a ditch when he was only several weeks old. His name was Gizmo and from the beginning, he was special. When he was nine months old, Gizmo took a temperament test to become a certified therapy pet. The evaluator pulled his tail and ears and petted him all over. He was passed between six people who were training with their dogs. We participated in an exercise with him in his stroller, weaving closely in and out of the group who were standing in a circle with their dogs beside them. He was separated from me for the required three minutes. Throughout the testing, Gizmo just chilled. It was like he was saying “give me something HARD, will ya?” Today Gizmo travels in a stroller alongside Jax on selected visits where cats are allowed. People get a huge kick out of seeing a dog and a cat visiting together. He has special girlfriends in the volunteer office of one facility we visit who squeal with delight when he appears.

Often when we are in a conference room visiting hospital staff, I will take Gizmo out of his stroller and walk him on his leash. He first likes to map out the periphery of the room and then he investigates and charms all the people. He likes to be petted and held. He purrs if you stroke his cheeks. Recently, the physician head of a department who claimed to hate cats insisted on taking a picture holding Gizmo. He was only semi-joking when he instructed his staff gathered round not to tell a soul!

Me? I am the fortunate woman who has the privilege of being loved by both an extraordinary therapy dog and an equally amazing therapy cat. And best of all, I know our Gene is watching all three of us from heaven and loving every bit of it!